[Diary of a Wimpy Kid 03] - The Last Straw

Diary Of A Wimpy Kid

The Last Straw

Jeff Kinney

TO TIM

January
New Year’s Day
You know how you’re supposed to come up with a list of “resolutions” at the
beginning of the year to try to make yourself a better person?
Well, the problem is, it’s not easy for me to think of ways to improve myself,
because I’m already pretty much one of the best people I know.
So this year my resolution is to try and help other people improve. But the
thing I’m finding out is that some people don’t really appreciate it when
you’re trying to be helpful.

One thing I noticed right off the bat is that the people in my family are doing
a lousy job sticking to their New Year ’s resolutions.
Mom said she was gonna start going to the gym today, but she spent the
whole afternoon watching TV.
And Dad said he was gonna go on a strict diet, but after dinner I caught him
out in the garage, stuffing his face with brownies.

Even my little brother, Manny, couldn’t stick with his resolution.
This morning he told everyone that he’s a “big boy” and he’s giving up his
pacifier for good. Then he threw his favorite binkie in the trash.

Well, that New Year ’s resolution didn’t even last a full minute.

The only person in my family who didn’t come up with a resolution is my
older brother, Rodrick, and that’s a pity because his list should be about a
mile and a half long.
So I decided to come up with a program to help Rodrick be a better person. I
called my plan “Three Strikes and You’re Out.” The basic idea was that every
time I saw Rodrick messing up, I’d mark a little “X” on his chart.
Well, Rodrick got all three strikes before I even had a chance to decide what
“You’re Out” meant.

Anyway, I’m starting to wonder if I should just bag my resolution, too. It’s a
lot of work, and so far I haven’t really made any progress.

Besides, after I reminded Mom for like the billionth time to stop chewing her
potato chips so loud, she made a really good point. She said, “Everyone can’t
be as perfect as You, Gregory.” And from what I’ve seen so far, I think she’s
right.

Thursday

Dad is giving this diet thing another try, and that’s bad news for me. He’s
gone about three days without eating any chocolate, and he’s been super
cranky.

The other day, after Dad woke me up and told me to get ready for school, I
accidentally fell back asleep. Believe me, that’s the last time I’ll make that
mistake.

Part of the problem is that Dad always wakes me up before Mom’s out of the
shower, so I know that I still have like ten more minutes before I need to get
out of bed for real.

Yesterday I came up with a pretty good way to get some extra sleep time
without making Dad mad. After he woke me up, I took all of my blankets
down the hall with me and waited outside the bathroom for my turn in the
shower.

Then I lay down right on top of the heater vent. And when the furnace was
blowing, the experience was even Better than being in bed.

The problem was, the heat only stayed on for about five minutes at a time. So
when the furnace wasn’t running, I was just lying there on this cold piece of
metal.

This morning, while I was waiting for Mom to be done with her shower, I
remembered someone gave her a bathrobe for Christmas. So I went into her
closet and got it.
Let me just say that was one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made. Wearing
that thing was like being wrapped in a big, fluffy towel that just came out of
the dryer.
In fact, I liked it so much, I even wore it after my shower. I think Dad
might’ve been jealous he didn’t come up with the robe idea first, because
when I came to the kitchen table, he seemed extra-grumpy.

I tell you, women have the right idea with this bathrobe thing. Now I’m
wondering what else I’m missing out on.
I just wish I had asked for my own bathrobe for Christmas, because I’m sure
Mom is gonna make me give hers back.
I struck out on gifts again this year. I knew I was in for a rough day when I
came downstairs on Christmas morning and the only presents in my stocking
were a stick of deodorant and a “travel dictionary.”

I guess once you’re in middle school, grown-ups decide you’re too old for
toys or anything that’s actually fun.
But then they still expect you to be all excited when you open the lame gifts

they get you.

Most of my gifts this year were books or clothes. The closest thing I got to a
toy was a present from Uncle Charlie.
When I unwrapped Uncle Charlie’s gift, I didn’t even know what it was
supposed to be. It was this big plastic ring with a net attached to it.

Uncle Charlie explained that it was a “Laundry Hoop” for my bedroom. He
said I was supposed to hang the Laundry Hoop on the back of my door and it
would make putting away my dirty clothes “fun.”

At first I thought it was a joke, but then I realized Uncle Charlie was serious.
So I had to explain to him that I don’t actually Do my own laundry.

I told him I just throw my dirty clothes on the floor, and Mom picks them up
and takes them downstairs to the laundry room.

Then a few days later, everything comes back to me in nice, folded piles.

I told Uncle Charlie he should just return the Laundry Hoop and give me cash
so I could buy something I’d actually use.

That’s when Mom spoke up. She told Uncle Charlie she thought the Laundry
Hoop was a great idea.

Then she said that from now on I’d be doing my own laundry. So basically, it
ends up that Uncle Charlie got me a chore for Christmas.

It really stinks that I got such crummy gifts this year. I put in a lot of effort
buttering people up for the past few months, and I thought it would pay off
on Christmas.

Now that I’m responsible for my own laundry, I guess I’m kind of glad I got
a bunch of clothes.

I might actually make it through the whole school year before I run out of
clean stuff to wear.

Monday

When me and Rowley got to our bus stop today, we found a nasty surprise.
There was a piece of paper taped to our street sign, and it said that, effective
today, our bus route was “rezoned.” And what that means is now we have to
walk to school.

Well, I’d like to talk to the genius who came up with that idea, because our
street is almost a quarter of a mile from the school.

Me and Rowley had to run to make it to school on time today. And what
really stunk was when our regular bus passed us by and it was full of kids
from Whirley Street, the neighborhood right next to ours.

The Whirley Street kids made monkey noises when they passed us, which
was really annoying because that’s exactly what we used to do when we
passed them.

I’ll tell you one reason it’s a bad idea to make kids walk to school. These
days, teachers give you so much homework that, with all the books and
papers you have to carry home, your backpack ends up weighing like a
hundred pounds.
And if you want to see what kind of an effect that has on kids over time, all
you have to do is look at Rodrick and some of his friends.

Speaking of teenagers, Dad scored a pretty big victory today. The baddest
teenager in our neighborhood is this kid named Lenwood Heath, and he’s
kind of like Dad’s archenemy. Dad has probably called the cops on Lenwood
Heath about fifty times.

I guess Lenwood’s parents got sick of his act, because they sent him off to
military academy.
You’d think that would’ve made Dad pretty happy, but I don’t think he’ll be
satisfied until every teenager on the planet gets sent off to juvenile hall or
Alcatraz or something. And that includes Rodrick.
Yesterday Mom and Dad gave Rodrick some money to buy books so he
could study for the sats, but Rodrick spent the money on a tattoo instead.

I’ve still got a little time before I turn into a teenager. But the minute I do, I
guarantee you Dad will be looking for the first chance to ship me out.
Monday
For the past week or so, Manny has been getting out of bed every night and
coming downstairs.

Instead of putting him right back to bed, Mom lets Manny sit with us and

watch TV.
It’s really not fair, because when Manny is with us, I’m not allowed to watch
any of the shows I like.
All I can say is, when I was a kid there wasn’t any of this “getting out of bed”
stuff. I did it once or twice, but Dad put a stop to it real quick.
There was this book Dad used to read to me every night called “The Giving
Tree.” It was a really good book, but the back of it had a picture of the
author, this guy named Shel Silverstein.
But Shel Silverstein looks more like a burglar or a pirate than a guy who
should be writing books for kids.

Dad must have known that picture kind of freaked me out, because one night
after I got out of bed, Dad said —

That really did the trick. Ever since then, I still don’t get out of bed at night,
even if I really need to use the bathroom.

I don’t think Mom and Dad read Manny any Shel Silverstein books, which
probably explains why he keeps getting up after they put him to bed.

I’ve heard some of the stories Mom and Dad read to Manny, and let me just
say that the people who write these books really have a racket going.

First of all, there are hardly any words in them, so I’m sure it only takes
about five seconds to write one.

I told Mom what I thought of Manny’s books, and she said that if they were
so easy to write, then I should try writing one myself.

So that’s exactly what I did. Trust me, it wasn’t hard, either. All you have to
do is make up a character with a snappy name, and then make sure the
character learns a lesson at the end of the book.

Now all I need to do is mail this thing off to a publisher and wait for the
money to start rolling in.





See what I mean? The only thing I noticed after I finished the book was that I
forgot to make it rhyme. But the publisher is gonna have to pay me extra if
they want that.

Saturday

Well, after spending the last two weeks walking to school, I was really
looking forward to kicking back and doing nothing for two days.
The problem with watching TV on a Saturday is that the only thing that’s on
is bowling or golf. Plus, the sun comes through our sliding glass window, and
you can barely see the TV screen anyway.

Today I wanted to change the channel, but the remote was on top of the
coffee table. I was all comfortable, with my bowl of cereal in my lap, so I
really didn’t want to get up.
I tried using the Force to make the remote levitate to me, even though I’ve
tried it a million times before and it’s never worked once. Today I tried for
about fifteen minutes and concentrated really hard, but no luck. I just wish I’d
known that Dad was standing right behind me the whole time.

Dad told me I was gonna have to go outside and get some exercise. I told Dad
I exercise all the time and just this morning I used the bench press he got me.
But I should have come up with something more believable, because it was
pretty obvious that wasn’t true.

See, the reason Dad is on my case about exercise and all that is because he’s
got this boss named Mr. Warren, and Mr. Warren has three boys who are
these crazy sports fanatics. Dad sees the Warren kids outside in their front
lawn every day on his way home from work when his carpool goes by their
house.

So I think Dad is pretty disappointed every time he gets home and sees what
HIs sons are up to.

Anyway, like I said, Dad kicked me out of the house today. I couldn’t really
think of anything I wanted to do, but then I had a good idea.
Yesterday at lunch, Albert Sandy was telling everyone about this guy in
China or Thailand or someplace who could jump six feet straight up in the
air, no joke. The way the guy did it was by digging a hole that was three
inches deep and then jumping in and out of it a hundred times. The next day,
the guy doubled the size of the hole, and he jumped in and out of that. By the
fifth day, he was practically like a kangaroo.

Some of the guys at my table told Albert he was full of baloney, but what he
was saying made a lot of sense to me. Plus, I figured if I did what Albert said
and then added a few days to the program, all my problems with bullies could
be over.

I got a shovel out of the garage and found a place in the front yard that looked
like a good spot to dig. But before I could even get started, Mom came
outside and asked me what I was up to.

I told Mom I was just digging a hole, but of course she didn’t like that idea.
So she came up with about twenty reasons why I wasn’t allowed to do it.

Mom told me it was “dangerous” to dig in the yard because of underground
electrical lines and sewage pipes and stuff. Then she made me promise up
and down that I wouldn’t dig any holes in our yard. So I promised.

Mom went inside, but then she kept watching me out the window. I knew I
was gonna have to take my shovel and go dig a hole somewhere else, so I
headed up to Rowley’s house.

I haven’t been going up to Rowley’s much lately, mostly because of Fregley.
Fregley has been spending a lot of time in his front yard, and sure enough,
that’s where he was today.

My new strategy with Fregley is to just avoid eye contact and keep walking,
and it seemed to do the trick today.
When I got to Rowley’s, I told him my idea, and how the two of us would
practically be ninjas if we stuck with this hole-jumping program I planned
out.

But Rowley didn’t seem so hot on the idea. He said his parents might get mad

if we dug a ten-foot hole in his front yard without asking them, so he was
gonna have to get their permission first.

Now, if there’s one thing I know about Rowley’s parents, it’s that they never
like my ideas. I told Rowley we could just cover the hole up with a tarp or a
blanket or something and put some leaves on top of it, and his folks would
never even find out. That seemed to convince him.

ok, so I admit that Rowley’s parents might eventually find out. But that
wouldn’t be for at least three or four months.

Me and Rowley found a good spot in the front yard to start digging, but we
ran into a problem right away.

The ground was pretty much frozen solid, and we could hardly even make a
dent.

I spent a few minutes trying before I handed the shovel over to Rowley. He
couldn’t really make any progress, either, but I gave him an extra-long turn
so he could feel like he was contributing to the project.

Rowley got a little bit further than I did, but when it started to get dark out, he
gave up.
I guess we’ll have to take another crack at this thing tomorrow.
Sunday
Well, I thought about it a lot overnight, and I realized that at the rate me and
Rowley are going, we’re gonna to be in college before this hole is ten feet
deep.

So I came up with a totally different idea for what we could do. I remembered
this thing I saw on TV where scientists made a “time capsule” and filled it
with a bunch of stuff like newspapers and DVDs and things like that. Then
the scientists buried their time capsule in the ground. The idea was that in a
few hundred years someone will come along and dig it up, and they can learn
how people from our time used to live.

I told Rowley about my idea, and he seemed pretty enthusiastic about it.
Mostly, I think he was just glad we weren’t gonna spend the next few years
digging a hole.
I asked Rowley to donate some items to put in the time capsule, and that’s
when he got cold feet.
I told Rowley that if he put some of his Christmas presents in the time
capsule, people in the future would get some really cool stuff when they
opened the box. Rowley told me it wasn’t fair, because I wasn’t putting any
of my Christmas presents in the time capsule. So I had to explain to him that
the people in the future would think we were really lame if they opened the
box and it was filled with clothes and books.

Then I told Rowley I’d throw in three dollars of my own money to prove I
was making sacrifices, too. That seemed to be enough to convince him to
fork over one of his new video games and a couple of other things.
I actually had a secret plan that I wasn’t letting Rowley in on. I knew that
putting the cash in the time capsule was a smart move, because that money is
gonna be worth a lot more than $3.00 in the future.
So hopefully whoever finds the time capsule will travel back in time and
reward me for making them rich.

I wrote a little note and put it in the box just to make sure the person who
finds it knows exactly who to thank.

Me and Rowley found a shoe box and put all of our stuff in it. Then we
sealed it up with some masking tape.
I wrote a little note on the outside of the box to make sure it didn’t get opened
too soon.

After that, we put it in the hole we dug yesterday and buried it as best we
could.
I kind of wish Rowley had put some more effort into digging the hole,
because our time capsule wasn’t really buried all the way. Hopefully nobody
will mess with it, because it needs to stay there for at least a few hundred
years.

Monday

Well, my week got off to a rough start. When I got out of bed, Mom’s
bathrobe wasn’t where it usually is, hanging on my doorknob.

I asked Mom if she took the robe back, but she said she didn’t. So I have a
feeling Dad had something to do with it.

A couple of days ago, I figured out a way to combine the bathrobe experience
and the heating vent experience, and I don’t think Dad really approved of my
idea.

I figure he either hid the robe or got rid of it. Now that I think of it, Dad made
a run to the Goodwill bin last night after dinner, so that’s probably not a good
sign.

Anyway, if Dad did get rid of the robe, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s
thrown out someone’s personal property. You know how Manny has been
trying to quit using his pacifier?

Yesterday morning Dad got rid of every single one of Manny’s binkies.

Well, Manny totally freaked out. The only way Mom could get him to calm
down was to dig out his old blanket, this thing he calls “Tingy.”

Tingy started off as a blue blanket that Mom knitted for Manny’s first
birthday, and it was love at first sight.

Manny carried that thing around with him everywhere he went. He wouldn’t
even let Mom take it away from him so she could wash it.
It started falling apart, and by the time Manny was two, his blanket was
basically a couple of pieces of yarn held together by raisins and boogers.
I think that’s when Manny started calling his blanket “Tingy.”

For the past couple of days, Manny’s been dragging Tingy around the house
just like he did when he was a baby, and I’ve been trying to stay out of his
way as much as possible.

Wednesday
I’m getting really tired of walking to school every day, so this morning I

asked Mom if she would drive me and Rowley. The reason I didn’t ask her
sooner is because Mom’s car is covered in all these embarrassing bumper
stickers, and kids at my school are brutal when it comes to that sort of thing.
I’ve tried scraping the bumper stickers off, but whatever kind of glue they put
on those things is meant to last until the end of time.

Today me and Rowley got a ride from Mom, but I told her to let us out
behind the school.

Well, I made the dumb mistake of leaving my backpack in the car, so Mom
brought it to me in fourth period. And of course she picked today to finally
start going to the gym.

It was just my luck, too. Fourth period is the only time I have a class with
Holly Hills, and I’ve been trying to make a good impression on her this year.
I figure this incident probably set me back about three weeks.

I’m not the only one who’s trying to impress Holly Hills, either. I think just
about every boy in my class has a crush on her.

Holly is the fourth-prettiest girl in the class, but the top three all have
boyfriends. So a lot of guys like me are doing everything they can to get in
good with her.

I’ve been trying to come up with an angle to separate myself from the rest of
the goobers who like Holly. And I think I finally figured it out: humor.

See, the kids in my class are like Neanderthals when it comes to jokes. To
give you an idea of what I’m talking about, here’s the kind of thing that
passes for comedy at my school —

Anytime Holly’s in the area, I make sure I use my best material.
I’ve been using Rowley as my comedy partner, and I’ve actually trained him
on a couple of pretty decent jokes.

The only problem is, Rowley’s starting to get a little greedy about who gets

to say what, so I don’t know if this partnership is gonna workout long-term.

Friday
Well, I learned my lesson about getting a ride from Mom, so I’m back to
walking to school. But when I was heading home with Rowley this afternoon,
I seriously didn’t think I had the energy to make it up the hill to my house. So
I asked Rowley if he’d give me a piggyback ride.
Rowley didn’t exactly jump at the idea, so I had to remind him that we’re
best friends and this is the kind of thing best friends do for each other. He
finally caved when I offered to carry his backpack for him.

I have a feeling this was a one-time thing, though, because Rowley was
completely wiped out by the time he dropped me off at my house. You know,
if the school is going to take away our bus ride home, the least they can do is
install a ski lift on our hill.

I’ve e-mailed the principal about five times with my suggestion, but I haven’t
heard anything back yet.

When I got to my house, I was pretty tired, too. My new thing is that I take a
nap every day after school.

In fact, I live for my naps. Sleeping after school is the only way I can really
recharge my batteries, and on most days the second I get home, I’m in bed.

I’m actually kind of becoming an expert at sleeping. Once I’m out, I can
sleep through just about anything.
The only person I know who’s better at sleeping than me is Rodrick, and
here’s the reason I say that. A couple of weeks ago, Mom had to order
Rodrick a new bed because he’d worn his out.
So the furniture guys came to take his old mattress and box spring away.
When they came, Rodrick was in the middle of his after-school nap. So they
took his bed away, and he just slept on the floor, right in the middle of his
empty bed frame.

The thing I’m worried about is that Dad is going to ban our after-school naps.
I’m starting to get the feeling he’s sick of waking the two of us up for dinner

every night.

Tuesday
Well, I hate to admit this, but I think my naps are starting to have an effect on
my grades.
See, I used to do my homework when I got home from school, and then I
watched TV at night. Lately I’ve been trying to do my homework while I
watch TV, and sometimes that doesn’t work out too good.

I had this four-page Biology paper due today, but last night I kind of got
caught up in this show I was watching. So I had to try to write the whole
thing in the computer lab during recess today.

I didn’t have a lot of time to do any research, so I played with the margins
and the font size to stretch what I had to four pages. But I’m pretty sure Ms.
Nolan is gonna call me on it.





Yesterday I actually got a “zero” on a quiz in Geography. But in my defense,
it was really hard to study for the quiz and watch football at the same time.
To be honest with you, I don’t think teachers should be making us memorize
all this stuff to begin with, because in the future everyone is going to have a
personal robot that tells you whatever you need to know.

Speaking of teachers, today Mrs. Craig was in a really bad mood. That’s
because the big dictionary that usually sits on her desk was missing.
I’m sure someone just borrowed it and forgot to put it back, but the word
Mrs. Craig kept using was “stole.”

Mrs. Craig said that if the dictionary wasn’t returned to her desk before the
end of the period, she was keeping everyone inside for recess.
Then she told us she was going to leave the room, and that if the “culprit”
returned the dictionary to her desk, there wouldn’t be any consequences, and
there would be no questions asked.
Mrs. Craig made Patty Farrell class monitor and left the room. Patty takes her
job as class monitor really seriously, and when she’s in charge, nobody dares
to step out of line.

I was just hoping the person who took the dictionary would hurry up and
come clean, because I had two cartons of chocolate milk for lunch.